


Wherever, Whenever

by TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving



Series: Whereever, Whenever [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison Argent & Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Contains canon elements, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Derek is a Failwolf, Due to full moon, Emotional Hurt Stiles, Everybody's pack, Finished for now, Hale fire happened, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, OOC-ness, The pack consists of idiots, Unhappy/open ending, Werewolf Jackson, author has not seen the show, non explicit concent in regards to sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 08:45:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4660170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving/pseuds/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pack's acting weird, but Stiles is busy. And then stuff happens.</p>
<p>(summaries are as hard as titles)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wherever, Whenever

**Author's Note:**

> First: I've never seen Teen Wolf so every thing I "know" comes from the (disturbingly) many Teen Wolf fics I've been reading, and the Teen Wolf wiki.  
> This idea was born when I read a story with a similar premise (the pack members approaching Stiles in a sexual way, and I'm sorry, I can't remember the title nor author) and it hasn't been willing to let me go before I wrote something down.
> 
> Second: The high school system makes no real sense to me, seeing as the schooling system in my country differs significantly from it, but Wikipedia insists you can be 18 in high school, so for the purpose of this fic everybody's AT LEAST 18 which is why I didn't tag for underage.  
> Then ofcourse I had to let Stiles go to a night Club, and the sheriff being okay with this, so again: Where I'm from 18 year olds are allowed to enter and be served alcohol at places like that and I decided it was allowed here, too, as long as nobody under 21 was actually served alcohol. (I refuse to tag for underage-anything, the end).
> 
> Third: If you find anything offensive let me know. I don't mean to offend anybody with what I've written, so generally assume a lack of knowledge on my part and politely show me the error of my ways. The same with tagging and/or rating. You think I've missed something, or should change something about that, let me know. I'll either do it, or tell you why I think I'm right :)
> 
> Insert usual disclaimers: Don't own, don't sue, no disrespect meant etc. etc
> 
> Now, read on and constructive critism is welcome

At first he chalks up their agitation to the fact that the full moon is just in a few days’ time. They may be a little clingier than usual, even Jackson seems to spend some time around him, but he doesn’t really think anything of it. And then it’s lunch two days before the full moon, Scott is talking about, oh fuck if he knows, he’s so not paying attention to the drama that is Scott’s love life, when he can devote obscene amounts of brain power to trying to figure out what ever is the meat in today’s mystery food, which is why it completely catches him off guard when his best friend suddenly hauls himself across the table and tries to stick his tongue down Stiles’ throat. He flails and somehow manages to slap Scott’s face before getting up and away from the table, almost falling over the toppled over chair behind him, before saying, way too loud by the way:

”The fuck, bro?”

Scott just gives him the kicked puppy eyes and Stiles can’t stay mad at that so he just bends over to pick up the chair, muttering to himself about how the full moon might not make people act weirder than normal, but it sure as hell does things to the not-people people, after which his rant takes on a whole new turn to define what he means by not-people people, and he completely misses when Scott hurriedly tells him he has to go, and it’s not until he looks up - the rant has somehow ended on pixies by now - and notices Scott is nowhere in sight. Used to his furry friends’ weird behavior he simply shrugs and makes his way to class.

Walking out of school at the end of the day, he decides to text Scott, so he shoots off a

**Care to explain that?**

All he gets is a whole lot of nothing. Scowling at the phone he reaches the jeep, and then he just sits there for a small eternity (or 30 seconds, but he’s not counting) waiting for an answer. When none is forthcoming he sighs and drives home.

***

He’s got the music on and making dinner when the doorbell rings. Stiles doesn’t know a lot of people who uses doorbells, most of them being Jehovah’s witnesses and the like, and he really doesn’t think he wants to talk about Jesus today, so he simply ignores it and continues to rinse the salad. Soon it’s forgotten when there’s a song he just has to sing along to, and if he does a little dance that’s not anybody’s business other than his, that is until he miscalculates a twirl that would’ve normally send him stumbling through the doorway into the living room, but he’s stopped by a brick wall. Now Stiles is pretty sure there’s not supposed to be a brick wall in the kitchen, which he obviously feels the need to say out loud, and he’s fairly certain brick walls don’t laugh either, so the chuckle he hears makes him jump a little and when he lifts his eyes there Jackson stands in front of him. Stiles ears go bright red with embarrassment at this, after all he does not sing and dance in front of others for very good reasons, but Jackson smiles and stretches out his hand. Stiles look at him questioningly until the other boy simply rolls his eyes, grabs Stiles hands and starts moving them around the kitchen. Stiles brain kind of goes offline for a few minutes, this is too weird to even begin to process. Jackson is an excellent dancer though, and Stiles enjoys it, at least until Jacksons hands start wandering. At first it’s not really noticeable and seems like small adjustment to their movements, but then Jackson leans forward and then Stiles has a very wet tongue in his ear, a heavy breathing werewolf and said werewolf’s hands on his ass. Its pure reflex that has him kneeing Jackson in the groin while saying

”No! Bad wolf! No bad touching the human.”

Jackson doesn’t really seem to pay attention as he’s cupping the front of his jeans making pained sounds as if Stiles actually hurt him, which, what? Since when can Stiles hurt werewolves without mountain ash and his trusted bat? But there’s no time to think about that, as he hears keys in the door and then his dad is standing there, taking in the scene, and great, there’s the parental judgmental eyebrows of disappointment, so Stiles squeaks, awkward as he rarely is with his dad

”Hi Dad. This is not what it looks like...”

And his dad just stares at him, before he turns his eyes towards Jackson, who’s making a valiant effort of not looking like a guy who just got kneed in the balls (curiously he’s failing epically), before he looks back at Stiles.

”Son, is there something you’d like to tell me?”

And Stiles just stares at him, mouth hanging open, before it clicks what his father thinks and his face goes tomato red, before he stammers

”N- n- no no, Jackson was just leaving, he just.. yeah.. I don’t... bye Jackson,” he rushes out.

And again with the kicked puppy face, this is twice in one day and Stiles doesn’t like it, but Jackson just nods at the sheriff and leaves. Dinner that night is rather uncomfortable, with all from ‘I love you’ to ‘it’s okay to say no’, and Stiles just wants the floor to swallow him whole.

***

The next day finds Stiles in the library where he went to find a book for his English essay but right now he’s absorbed in some text about the embalming process the Egyptians used. He’s quite engrossed in it, but the smell of two very distinct and well known perfumes have him looking up. Stiles decides that this is both weirder and scarier than anything that has happened so far as he’s greeted with the predatory smiles of Lydia and Erica. Now maybe as late as a week ago this would’ve been a dream come true for Stiles, but as they both reach out to trail their hands down his face and neck he realizes that a) this is not something he wants and b) this is so out of the ordinary something supernatural must be going on. The element of surprise is most likely the only reason he manages to outrun Erica.

***

He barricades himself in his room, lines of mountain ash in the window sill and then he goes into research frenzy. The beastiary isn’t all that helpful, and the internet fails him too, and though he’s desperate enough to call everybody he knows they don’t answer their phones. Stiles is a little sick and tired of werewolves and their shit.

Sometime late his dad calls, tells him not to wait up and get to bed sooner rather than later, and Stiles agree, with every intention of doing just that until he realizes he’s kind of hungry and he runs downstairs to get some food. He’s contemplating his options - honey glazed sugar bombs or chocolate wonderfulness - before he decides fuck it and puts both kinds of cereal in the bowl. He then decides to unwind with a little comedy so he takes his food to the living room. He never gets to eat it though, as the sight that greets him has him dropping the bowl and milk and cereal splatters all over the floor, furniture and Stiles. Lying on the couch in nothing but a pair of briefs with his hand down said briefs is Boyd, but the instance Stiles is through the door he jumps up and he’s on Stiles before it even registers that his hands are empty. Boyd is plastered to Stiles’ front before Stiles has even said “ _eum_ ” and it’s not before he feels Boyd’s hands on his skin that he gets jolted into action. He goes for the classic knee to the groin, which Boyd apparently anticipated and counters while he tightens the grip he has on Stiles’ wrists. It all ends with a terrifying roar that has Boyd releasing Stiles so fast he almost brains himself on the wall, and then a very angry alpha is dragging Boyd off by the scruff of his neck. It takes a few seconds for Stiles to steady himself and then he’s running after them.

”What the hell is going on here Derek?

There is no response coming, but the alpha has stopped and the tense line of his shoulders prove to Stiles that he has been heard. There’s a muffled sound coming from the pair, before Boyd is unceremoniously stuffed into the camaro.

”Just,” there’s the ever suffering sigh, “ just stay away, Stiles.”

And then Derek’s at the wheel, and they’re speeding off into the night.

Now Stiles don’t normally do very well with orders, but there’s an awful mess in the living room and he’s suddenly so tired he feels like he could fall asleep right then and there, so he goes inside, cleans and goes to bed. He’s late for school next day.

***

There’s the nagging feeling that he’s missing something obvious the entire day, but it’s not until he’s in the locker room changing into lacrosse gear that it finally clicks. There are no wolves. And looking back over the day he realizes that he hasn’t seen either Erica, Lydia nor Allison. Without conscious thought he has his phone out and has dialed Derek’s number while trying to get the gear off and get his own clothes back on. The phone keeps ringing, and he can feel the first curls of panic rising in his gut. At the twelfth ring he gives up, hangs up himself and two handed the clothes changing goes a lot smoother. He runs out with Finstock screaming at him to “ _get his ass back in here_ ”. The drive to the preserve only takes half the time it usually does, while he keeps praying none of his dad’s deputies will stop him. It’s mere seconds from stopping his car to being inside Derek’s house, and there are voices drifting up from the basement so he tries to sneak down the stairs, but he’s not even halfway before he hears

”I told you to stay away, Stiles.”

So he drops the sneaking and walks normally, what he sees gives him pause though. The entire pack (humans too) is chained to the walls. Of course Stiles knew that that’s what the basement is for, confining the wolves on the full moon, when they’re not in perfect control, but this is the first time he’s been here, and he didn’t know there were actual chains, not to mention the humans are chained too, so maybe this is some weird, no not going there he tells himself, before he looks at Derek, who’s apparently in the process of chaining himself to the wall too, and wait what, since when does the alpha do that Stiles wonders, which is of course the words that come out his mouth.

”What?”

Derek growls at him and his eyebrows does something complicated Stiles doesn’t understand, before he sighs, lets go of the chain and then drags Sties up the stairs. Now Stiles is aware that tonight is the full moon, and he is also very much aware that provoking the alpha of all people might not be the best course of action, but damn it he’s not some kind of rag doll, that Derek can just throw around as he pleases, not to mention he deserves some answers to the pack’s strange behavior these past days, and the minute Derek lets go of his arm he’s going to inform the werewolf of this. It takes him by surprise, and thus renders him speechless for at least ten seconds when the minute he’s released he’s on a bed with Derek hovering above him. There’s a low, steady growl emitting from Derek’s throat, and Stiles swallows audibly, he’s not scared and there’s nothing inherently threatingly about the sound but having 200 pound of werewolf above you could probably make even bigger men than Stiles a little nervous. And then the world ends and the zombie apocalypse is here or something equally terrifying because _Derek is nuzzling his neck_ and the action is so like what Jackson did but instead of trying to get away from him, Stiles just sort of _melt_ and everything is rainbows and unicorns, and Derek’s hands all over him and him all over Derek, and there’s no clothes and there’s sharp pain for just a second, before Derek’s arms turn black and then there’s only pleasure.

It all ends at sunrise, when Derek tells him to _stay away, they won’t trouble you again_ , and then there’s nothing but pain.

***

Stiles is used to being a pariah, after all he’s had almost 18 years of practice, but before he at least had a friend, and that’s the key word here, he thinks bitterly, _had_

, because after the full moon everybody, even Scott, seems to avoid him like the plaque. Stiles has plenty of time contemplating the epic cluster fuck that is his life while he spends way too much time with his new best friend: the toilet. In his more petty moments he even compares them - Scott never wins.

But while his so called friends avoid him the teachers starts to look worried, even Harris, colossal dick that he is, doesn’t give him detention even when Stiles runs out of his class one morning because the girl in front of him smell like something awful. He decides he most likely needs to see a doctor, all this vomiting can’t be healthy.

***

The doctor talks, but all Stiles can hear is an endless stream of _fuck my life_. He may or may not have a panic attack, and they call his dad. Who sadly knows about werewolves and wolfs bane and owns a gun (okay, several) and is ready to go all vengeful wrath on the resident pack. Stiles begs him not to with tears streaming down his cheeks. His dad promises everything’s going to be okay, Stiles pretends to believe him.

Deaton informs him that however many (Stiles faints at that message, and it’s several minutes before Deaton can continue) children he’s expecting there’s an almost 100 percent chance they’ll become wolves. Stiles regrets not letting his dad shoot the pack. Deaton gives him a phone number and recommends an excellent doctor who deals with cases like Stiles’. Now Stiles wants to shoot the vet.

***

Stiles meets Frank, the beta whose number Deaton gave him. Frank is Stiles new best friend - the porcelain god is placed on a nice second place in the competition, Scott doesn’t even make the list. Stiles is most likely still a little bitter.

***

Frank goes with him when he goes to see the doctor Deaton recommended. Afterwards he buys Stiles ice cream, and suggests he starts recording some of the upcoming milestones, for when _”the idiot gets his head out his ass and sees what’s in front of him_. Stiles’ smile is a little wistful, but he does as suggested.

Frank’s been around for a month, never far from Stiles’ side and the sheriff has graciously allowed the man to stay at his house. He gets the spare bedroom though. The morning sickness becomes a distant memory and he starts paying attention in class again, sort of. The other students stop paying him attention and if he ever feels eyes on him he just bows his head and ignores it, usually taking cover behind a book or his phone.

It’s a Friday when Frank for whatever reason shows up at school, standing up against Stiles’ jeep when he exits the doors. It’s an awful day, Stiles is tired and achy and feels like he just wants to sit in a corner somewhere and cry. Frank’s outfit though makes him smile. The guy is wearing a suit though the pants stop just below his knee, and somehow gives the illusion of being a skirt, and on his feet is a pair of stilettos that would make most girls green with envy. The instant he sees Stiles (though he suspects Frank smelled him before he even made it out the door) he pushes himself away from the jeep and takes a few steps, and it’s clear he knows how to walk in those shoes. His smile is blinding and he wraps Stiles up in a bear hug before kissing him, it’s chaste and basically on his cheek, but to any spectator it must look as if it’s right on his mouth, and in a loud voice declares

”We’re going dancing _chéri_.”

At first Stiles argues, saying he’s tired and bad company, but Frank simply gives him a look that clearly tells that he knows something the youth doesn’t, so with the promise that he gets to nap, and his dad is on board with the plan, by night fall he and Frank find themselves in the line to get into The Jungle. When they get inside they sit at the bar, Frank nursing a beer looking at the performance on stage, Stiles with a coke lost somewhere inside his own head between funeral rituals and Derek Hale. When he feels particular vindictive he thinks Derek should be burned. He startles when a glass is placed in front of him, and the man on his left leans in with a smirk and raises his own drink to Stiles

”A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be alone on a night like this.”

Before Stiles can say anything Frank turns, takes the glass placed in front of Stiles and gives it to the man on his own right. The look he levers at the man who bought the drink in the first place is menacing, but Stiles is used to this, so he just places a hand on Franks arm, before answering the man.

”It’s a good thing I ain’t then. And he doesn’t share, so thanks but no thanks.”

To emphasize his point he hops off the bar stool, grabs Frank’s hand and head towards the dance floor. Frank follows and they spend the next however long dancing. Stiles enjoys it, just letting go of everything, knowing Frank’s going to make sure nothing happens to him. After a while he notices Frank’s attention and when he looks up he can’t help but laugh when he sees the direction of his gaze. So once again he takes Frank’s hand and drags him over to Veronica. Frank is smitten and Stiles decides that he’s ready to go home, which he tells the other man. He looks concerned, torn between the promise he’s made Stiles and the desire to get to know Veronica better. Stiles simply kisses his cheek, tells him to be quiet if he do decide to get back tonight and then turning to Veronica and telling him to treat Frank right _or else_ and then he’s moving towards the exit.

It’s the best sleep he’s had in forever.

***

Stiles goes to his first scan accompanied by his dad, who he makes record the entire consultation. Both their eyes get wet when the doctor points out where the baby is, his dad with the air of nostalgia around him that tells Stiles he’s thinking of his late wife. Stiles thinks of her, too, and actually starts crying. The doctor hands them both some tissues before ushering them out. They eat and Stiles even lets his dad order fries, he’s in a good mood. Frank calls to say he’s got plans that evening, but he can cancel if Stiles needs him. Stiles just laughs at him at tells him to behave. Frank’s response is hilarious.

His stomach has begun visibly growing, but so far it’s still hideable under some of his baggier hoodies. He gets excused from PE and leaves the lacrosse team. He still spends his lunches and free lessons alone, so he takes up texting Frank in those moments. Most Fridays find them at The Jungle, Stiles with his coke and Frank with a beer, dancing and having fun. And if Stiles was hoping to do this with someone else he’s not telling.

It’s one of those Fridays where everybody and their bloody uncle seems to be hitting on him and he’s just fed up with it so he decides to call it a night and go home. When he gets outside and far enough away he almost can’t hear the crowd and the music he tips back his head and takes a few deep breaths looking up at the night sky. He can smell different perfumes and colognes and he has a feeling he should be able to identify them, but the hand that suddenly lands and spins him around takes him by surprise anyway. When he sees who the hand belongs to and the people behind said person his eyes widens and his mouth gapes in shock. They look angry, and Stiles just doesn’t care.

”Stiles,” there’s hesitation in his former best friend’s voice, a look of uncertainty in his eyes, and Stiles simply crosses his arms in front of his chest and levers him with a glare.

”Don’t you think you deserve better?” the wolf in front of him asks, and Stiles can’t help the laugh that feels as if it was punched out of him. It’s not a happy sound, but filled with rage and bitterness. He tilt’s his head on the side:

”Better Scott? Better than _what_ exactely?

”Better than some cheating bastard”, Scott all but screams at him, slurring a little due to his fangs.

And all Stiles can do is stare at him. What? And it clicks, they think he and Frank are a couple, which is so stupid that he actually does laugh on purpose. It’s a mean, patronizing sound and he follows it with words.

”Better, you say Scotty boy. You mean like getting my first kiss in the lunch hall better? Or better like being degraded to some alpha’s fuck toy? Is that the kind of _better_ you think I deserve? Because then I’ll inform you, that I’ll take the ‘cheating bastard’ over any of those any day. Now, kindly let go of my arm and then go fuck yourselves.”

It’s not the first time Stiles has wished for a brain to mouth filter, it’s not that he didn’t mean every word he said, it’s more he didn’t want them to know how much he hurts, it’s the kind of knowledge that will only end with him getting even more hurt. He struggles to get free, Scott’s grip doesn’t hurt but he is a hell of a lot stronger than Stiles so he’s not really getting anywhere, and it’s not until he hears Lydia’s gasp of surprise that he registers the chill night air blowing over his exposed belly.

”You’re...,” she says, to which he rolls his eyes because she’s a genius stating the obvious, and they’re all staring at him, some kind of rawness in their eyes he can’t decipher, and then everything happens in a blur, and he’s hanging over Boyd’s shoulder and in a car and before his brain catches up with the rest of his body he’s sitting in a chair in Derek’s house, five wolves, a human and a banshee staring down at him, and he’s still just so goddamn tired that the only thing he can think of saying is

”This is what happens when you don’t get rid of the mangy dogs.”

It’s low and hurtful, and he doesn’t really mean it, but he doesn’t try to take it back, simply folds his hands in his lap and stares at them, instead of the pack. They try talking to him throughout the night and he steadfastly ignores them. At some point Derek enters, takes a sniff in Stiles’ direction (hidden behind the betas) and is _right there_ and Stiles flinch and almost falls down the chair, though it’s an armchair, and that has Derek scrambling in the opposite direction as if Stiles is some kind of wild animal who should be approached with caution. There is no talk after that.

Somewhere around noon the door opens again and Stiles sees Frank and his dad in the door opening. The sheriff looks furious and Frank doesn’t seem all that happy either. It’s Frank that approaches them, though it’s probably him who’s at this point is the one most in danger. Stiles lifts his head when he recognizes the feet in front of him and then he throws himself into Frank’s arms and crying like the scared kid he is at the moment. Frank’s hands are on his back, soothing and gentle, but his face is a thunderstorm, though Stiles doesn’t see that. Frank is just a beta, nearly omega, and the sheriff is only human, and not even armed, but the anger the two men radiate have the pack cowering in a corner and baring their necks in submission. Derek doesn’t and his eyes are glowing red, but there is no challenge in it only hurt and pain. Frank snarls at him before he hoists Stiles up and carries the still crying youth outside. The sheriff tracks them with his eyes, and the minute they can hear a car door closing he turns his attention towards the pack.

”Pull something like that again and you all end up buried in wolfs bane. Idiots.”

And with that the pack is alone, staring scared and wide eyed between the door, the chair where Stiles sat all night and their alpha, who has tears streaming down his face. It’s Lydia who breaks the silence first:

”Fuck toy, Derek?”

And the alpha flinches as if she has slapped him, a hurtful whine escaping his throat while he hangs his head and generally looks like a puppy who has done something wrong, and just wants to be loved again. Lydia doesn’t though, she just crosses her arms and stares at her alpha.

”You said nothing happened, and yet here we are a good four months later and Stiles is obviously _pregnant_ and no matter what the rest of you think, that wolf who carried him out of here is not the one who made that happen. So spill.”

It’s so quiet that they almost doesn’t hear it, Derek’s admission of Stiles _”is my mate”_ and then he runs and no amount of calling gets him to come back.

**Author's Note:**

> At this point this story is finished, that doesn't mean I might not expand on the thing at some later time. I do hope you enjoyed it though
> 
> (Yes, the title is the Shakira-song, there's a long and boring explanation for that, and at this point in time it makes no sense in terms of the story you just read. sorry!? ;)...)


End file.
